


Afterlife

by musicalfreak86



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Gen, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-21
Updated: 2014-11-21
Packaged: 2018-02-26 11:26:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2650322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicalfreak86/pseuds/musicalfreak86
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It didn't really matter what one did when they were dead. And somehow, she knew that that was what she was. Dead.<br/>(Old fic)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Afterlife

**Author's Note:**

> I'm in the process of bringing some of my old fics over here, and I particularly liked this one. (I do not own Harry Potter)
> 
> "There is nothing worse than death, Dumbledore!"  
> "You are quite wrong. Indeed, your failure to understand that there are things much worse than death has always been your greatest weakness."
> 
> \- Voldemort and Dumbledore

White. Everything was white. She couldn't see anything. It was as though a dense mist had descended all around her. She hugged herself and began to walk, finding that she actually could walk, although it appeared as though she were trodding on the very mist itself. Which she very well may have been. It didn't really matter what one did when they were dead. And somehow, she knew that that was what she was. Dead  
It seemed like such a lonely thought, she mused, as she continued walking. Her surroundings were becoming a little clearer now, and she realized that, somehow, she was in the Forbidden Forest. How did she get here? She could tell that it was the Forest, though really, it didn't seem like it. The trees were there, yes, as well as the undergrowth, but it was peaceful, so unlike the real forest, where there was no telling what one might come across. And there was still that mist. It was everywhere, and though you could see through it (enough anyway), it was still just _there_. Oppressive.

The forest was so peaceful, apart from the mist, that she almost didn't want to leave it. But she felt that she must carry on. She didn't know why, or how she knew, she just knew. Like how she had known she was dead.

She shivered a little, though in reality (and what was reality anymore?) it wasn't cold. No breeze came through the Forest, not even enough to move the leaves. The climate and all of her surroundings seemed perfect, but something felt wrong. And the mist really was strange. Perhaps that was where the bad feeling came from. She began to fear the mist, though only slightly.

The trees were thinning now, and she could see that she had come to the grounds of the school. It was just as peaceful, misty, and eerily perfect as the Forest had been, and the nagging feeling that something was wrong became stronger. She was so _alone_. She shouldn't be so alone. Not here, where she knew, somewhere in the back of her brain, that there had been people just moments before. Maybe they had hidden when she emerged from the forest. Maybe it was a game. If so, she didn't like it much. She was getting very uncomfortable, her surroundings seeming colder, less welcoming than they had felt when she first woke up in the forest to discover that she was dead. She thought about returning to the Forest, to that first spot, but upon turning back toward it, she found that it was gone, swallowed up. She was by herself in the mist.

She was getting frightened now. The mist was no longer comfortably there, around her but not bothering her. It was a swirling mass, closing in, robbing her of the very air she no longer needed to breathe, but still felt strongly tied to. She was suffocating, though it was no longer possible for her to do so. In her panic, she cried out.

And she was no longer being crushed.

She was no longer suffocated.

The mist was no longer aggressive. It was back to just _being_.

And she was once again alone in a white world.


End file.
